


Midnight Restraint

by nyxxbx



Series: Bel'annar'is [9]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M, Mutual Pining, Pining, Pining Solas (Dragon Age), Resistance, Skyhold (Dragon Age), Surprise Kissing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-24
Updated: 2020-05-24
Packaged: 2021-03-03 03:40:46
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,278
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24358213
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nyxxbx/pseuds/nyxxbx
Summary: Solas and Lavellan have an unexpected meeting in the library of the rotunda. Solas struggles to keep his feelings at bay.
Relationships: Female Lavellan/Solas, Lavellan & Solas
Series: Bel'annar'is [9]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1733095
Kudos: 26





	Midnight Restraint

His lashes fluttered against his cheekbones, lips releasing a breath as he awakened, surroundings blurry. The ache in his lower back spread, claiming position across his limbs, trailing up his spine, burdening his shoulders and finally settling in his head. Glistening golden eyes met the granite blurriness with a familiar twinkle, and he let an internal groan be released from within his throat. 

He had fallen asleep in the rotunda again.

Silver shifted from the mural on the wall, coming to rest on the scene before him. The darkness of the night had already enveloped the surroundings walls and the silence that spread through the stone halls was deafening, its tendrils reaching even the spots that were hidden. 

His mind had passed out from utter exhaustion, and he could feel his eyes burning from the long hours of inspecting the tomes and scripts scattered over his desk, the small porcelain containing the ink hanging dangerously close to the edge, ready to plummet into the awaiting hands of the stone floor. 

It was his natural state – when he was not scouring the Fade for hidden knowledge, that is.

It was getting difficult for him to distract himself from the thoughts of _her_. She had been more than understanding with his request, choosing to distance herself from him, despite the apparent longing in her eyes.

And yet, he could feel her persistent affection everywhere around him.

It was in the mural he had painted – stomach still clenching at the thought of losing her to the icy grasp of the avalanche – it was her curious voice that resonated through the rotunda as she conversed with Dorian about Tevinter, magisters and blood magic, slavery and the lack of Dalish clans in his homeland.

He wanted to be the one to converse with her on such matters, like they used to back at Haven. He could still envision her glowing with curiosity as he shared his stories of the Fade, her arms grasped behind her back, a thoughtful gesture that made his breath hitch when he let his mind wander.

 _But_ – he was not certain. Not yet. His mind was still unwilling to let him have this fleeting moment of passion. 

It would be foolish of him to pursue it and it would be hurtful for her. He had already caused enough pain.

This, whatever it was, could only lead to ruin and more anguish. 

The wolf inside him, however, did not want it to be lost.

Truthfully, she wasn't ignoring him, no, quite the opposite, she would stroll through the rotunda on her way to the Commander's office almost every dawn, golden eyes bright as they met his. He never heard her enter, she was far too nimble and light on her feet for that, but once she was before him her existence set a fire to his senses that he did not know how to extinguish.

A subtle touch as she questioned him about Corypheus, fingers gracing his shoulder in a friendly manner, nothing more. A tempting glance, entrancing smile, the curve of her nose buried in books, tomes and parchment as she researched for the missions and the council gatherings. Her presence was everywhere, her influence bouncing of the walls with satisfactory smirks of the nobles, positive reports of the missions she had ordered and fulfilled. 

She was fighting against the demon of doubt that had made its home within her mind, her evergrowing confidence destroying the remnants of its home. The battle was not apparent, but he was observant.

The healer had finally granted her the permission to lead the field missions herself, and Solas was not surprised the first time she asked him to accompany her. He was pleased, albeit a bit annoyed for the trembling thread of restraint within him was growing thinner.

" _Bull, Dorian and I are leaving for the Storm Coast tomorrow…"_ , she had said, tempting lips etched in a smile that stretched the healing gash on her temple, " _I'd love it if you were to join us."_

_She would have loved it. His fists clenched as he remembered the intentional phrasing._

He had refused, of course, the silver of his tongue creating petty excuses. Request after request, it seemed her presence had spread throughout the entirety of Thedas. With each rising of the dawn she would greet him with a newfound knowledge in her mannerisms, curious eyes seeking only him.

And every time she would leave with a longing glance that hid the urge to grasp and hold onto him.

Somewhere, deep inside of him, he wanted her to do that. Fear and dedication to his duty outgrew that carnal desire. 

For now.

Shaking his head, he snapped out of his groggy thoughts, fingers grasping over the tomes and parchment. He would have to return these to the library before he succumbed to the tendrils of sleep clawing at his spine. 

Feet ascended the stone stairs, a soft whisper upon contact as he walked, mind wondering whether he would see her in the Fade. 

One particular thing that irked him about her was the way she dismissed sleep and rest as something unimportant and reserved for when she was to pass out from exhaustion. His strolls through the Fade were less luminous and he found himself missing that beacon, that thrill of curiosity at the vivid scenes her mind could conjure. He had had his moments of insomnia too, but she had barely gotten rest since she had been marked by his magic, the energy pulsing from beneath her palm. 

And that energy coursed and surrounded him now too, his mana reaching out with tentative and soothing fingers to extinguish the dull ache. 

He stopped for a moment, coaxing his feet to move silently, his eyes scouring the surrounding bookshelves for the apparition of her form. Her scent enveloped him before her could see her, a pleasing tone of ironbark leaves and fir needles, smell of the torrential downpour as it hit the earth of the Storm Coast.

His eyes closed momentarily, relishing in the sense of comfort her closeness delivered to him. 

His feet rounded the corner, and there she was, eyes already alert at the midnight phantom strolling through Skyhold. Her form was ethereal in the moonlight protruding from the circular window, her pale locks a halo of blinding light around her features, falling against them softly. The gash on her temple was accentuated by the glow, the fabric of the gauze missing on the place of the blow, edged scarrings shifting underneath the large, jagged line like sharp crystals. 

She wore a simple, vermilion-coloured tunic that hung _dangerously_ low over her shoulderblade, revealing the smoothness of her collarbone. Legs were tucked neatly, in a relaxed manner, beneath her thighs, clad in olive-coloured weaved trousers.

Solas swallowed.

Her lips, the tempting sins, opened in surprise, eyes widening for a moment before she let a small, tired smile grace her lips.

That mere, tired expression was enough to make his heart beat faster, his fingers itching to grasp her jaw and–

"Sleep well?" She mimicked with a smirk, fingers still grasping the edge of the page she was on. 

"Inquisitor–" he began, eyes tracing over her features, mind momentarily blank. 

She bit her lip and he saw a flash of panic in her eyes. His jaw clenched.

"Did I wake you? I'm really sorry if I did, I–" she shifted from the pillows she was sitting on, form closing over the moonlight, a sight to behold, "You looked like you needed all the rest you could get, despite the odd angle." She sheepishly said, eyes trailing over his jawline and neck, as if questioning the stiffness in the tendons.

"Your grace as a rogue has clearly come into play, Inquisitor. I heard nothing." He replied smoothly. She blushed and his hands clenched the tomes in his grip. "I was just returning these back to their assigned places."

She nodded in understanding, teeth gnawing at her bottom lip in contemplation, fingers trailing over inscripted words.

His breath hitched.

This was already too much. He needed to get away, find relief in cold water running down his neck and in the hidden secrets of the Fade.

"Would you care to join me afterwards, Solas?" Her voice was soft as she asked.

He hesitated, his back tensing.

He wanted to. He needed to. He had to. Shouldn't. Couldn't. Wouldn't. _No_.

No.

"It would be a pleasure, Inquisitor." His tongue had betrayed the screaming thoughts in his mind, a small, rebellious smirk etching at the corner of his mouth.

Her eyebrows raised in surprise, her lips stretching into a smile as she nodded, scooting towards the window to offer him a spot beside her.

He didn't deserve that.

Didn't deserve the subtle play of her affection with his marred heart, the enrapturing use of magic that she did not possess and yet still used to entrance him further. And like a siren, she had drawn him over the ocean tidal waves and made anchor in his unceasing intrigue, instilling her being within him.

He could feel her eyes trailing over his form as he moved in front of the bookshelves, fingers gracing the spine before turning to the other, lips muttering as he placed them in the precise, exact spot they belonged to. The gold in her eyes was burning as he returned to her spot, cheeks alight as she stumbled to focus on the words in her lap, one finger nervously ticking against the cover. 

A smile graced him, but she stayed silent, allowing him to choose how the unexpected meeting would progress. 

He should stay quiet, find something to study aside from the beauty of her marked features, answer questions if she had any, of course, and then retire to his chambers in search of sleep. Only, he couldn't stay quiet in her presence. Not when he longed to hear the soft tendrils of her voice.

"If you would indulge me, Inquisitor, why are you up at this hour?" The lilac circles underneath her eyes crinkled as she let out a sigh. 

She shrugged.

"I suppose I can never sleep before field missions. Blackwall and Sera are accompanying me to Fallow Mire tomorrow– _well_ …" her eyes glanced at the moon shining upon her form. "Today, more like. Scout Harding mentioned that the amount of rifts there is… immense, so I was hoping to gain some insight on the nature of the Fade, perhaps to soothe the wraiths instead of killing them." She said, finger tapping against the page.

Solas' could feel the tightness in his throat at her confession, baffled by her intellect and cordiality towards things she had no prior knowledge about. Instead of judging them by the words and whispers of the blind, she offered to listen to words unspoken, knowledge hidden away and waiting, yearning to be unlocked. His heart swelled, and with her shoulder barely pressing against his, a whisper of restrained touch, he wanted to embrace her, feel her against him like he had in the Fade.

He had her, then. If for a moment.

And that was enough. That had to be enough.

He cleared his throat, silently.

Furrowing his brows, he steeled his voice to a polite baritone as he questioned. "You would give them that benefit? Even though they are considered to be mindless beings capable only of chaos?"

She let out a sigh, eyes tentative as she scoured their surroundings. "The demons are too far gone, I am aware of _that_ , but some of the wraiths we encountered at Crestwood did not attack. They merely… _strolled_ by us." A smile graced her lips as she remembered. "Bull got so frightened, he made me hit him with a branch afterwards. His actions are so strange sometimes."

Glancing at him, she chewed on her lip as she shrugged. "I suppose I would– _uh_ … give them the benefit of a doubt. Why should I not?"

She looked at him then, and her lips opened in a silent gasp, noticing the intensity of his gaze as he listened to her. The cerulean on her cheekbones flushed as she fiddled with her fingers, jaw tightening.

His fingers itched.

No.

He could not. It would be selfish of him.

Stop.

"You continue to surprise me, Inquisitor." His voice was deep and wistful, a ghost of a smile etched on his lips. 

He saw a glimmer of pride hang onto her features, the pull of the lips upwards, crimson flowering across the bridge of her nose. She exhaled a breath, an airy chuckle escaping her.

"I wanted to ask you, actually. If that could be possible, somehow. How ironic that we find ourselves here now, isn't it?" 

He swallowed, tongue wetting his lips, throat dry. Curse the maddening effect she had on him.

"Quite ironic, indeed." He murmured, shaking his head. "I do believe that to be possible, _lethal'lin_.” Her eyes graced his, an innocent curiosity hiding behind them.

He cleared his throat.

“The wraiths are at times called the scavengers of the Fade. They dwell in the shadows of stronger beings, feeding on the scraps of thoughts and emotion." His voice filled the empty halls of the library as he spoke. 

She nodded, head tilting to the side as she thought. Her eyes focused on the railing surrounding the balcony and she bit her lip.

Was she doing this one purpose?

She was irresistible. 

A breath sounded through her, and her eyes moved down to the books still lying in her lap as she clenched her jaw. "So… they feed on scraps of thoughts and emotion consumed by stronger beings, meaning demons, yes?" She questioned.

Solas exhaled. His hand gripped the pillow he was sitting on.

"In most cases, yes." He answered coolly.

"Demons are spirits turned deviant by the nature of our negative emotions, yes? And they hunger for those thoughts…" her eyes blinked as she contemplated. 

His heart was beating erratically, chest tightening and he could feel himself edging closer to her even though he heard her perfectly from a distance.

She straightened herself in her seat, elbow bumping with his. A childlike glee rested on her features.

No.

"But if the wraiths are simply beings hiding in their shadows– they're… well they do not hunger. They are simply trying to survive and are drawn by the rifts. If we kill the demons first, perhaps we could _persuade_ the–"

The way words flowed through the petals of her lips, the gestures of her hands as she rambled, the flush at her cheekbones from the pure intrigue and eagerness for newfound possibilities…

No.

Stop.

He didn't want to be selfish. But he was a greedy man. 

His hand reached out to grasp her jaw, breaking the trance her conclusion put her in. His fingers were desperate as he brought her dismayed features closer to him. He kissed her with featherlike urgency, craving her, needing to soothe the ache in his heart as the inferno within him burned wildly, untamed and yearning for her. Lips barely grazing hers, he felt the electricity course through him as his magic sparked, the reins of his control barely within his grasp.

She was here, in his arms now. He didn't need more, not during this moment. 

She gasped against him, tensing if only for a moment, nose inhaling his scent as she allowed herself to indulge in his momentary embrace. Her lips graced his with equal desperation and his hands went rigid at her skin, fingers ghosting over the flesh of her cheekbones, forehead whispering against hers in a careful manner. 

Her breath against his lips was like inhaling a gulp of air after being submerged underwater for too long. It offered peace, a relief from the regretful grief tearing through his being. The skin of her fingertips graced his cheek, burning.

He craved, wanted, needed. 

He couldn't. 

His form pulled away begrudgingly and his lungs were breathless, flesh tingling from having her, if for a moment, in his embrace. Her fingertips still traced his forearm in a soothing manner and when he glanced at her, her lips still aghast, yet eyes calm and accepting, the cycle began once more and the beast was ravenous.

She hummed, a melodious sound, lips letting out a laugh. "That was…" a chuckle escaped her. "I suppose I should ramble more often?" Her voice was teasing, questioning and he noted a tinge of sadness hidden within the lilt.

Solas cleared his throat, watching her fingers draw circles through his sweater-covered arm, and he craved for them to touch his flesh.

He flinched at the thought, momentarily fearing his mind had turned into a savage, deranged animal.

His fingers grasped hers and he nodded towards her, lips pursed. 

" _Ir abelas_ , Inquisitor. I–" Her laugh stopped him, and his heart fluttered. 

"It is alright, Solas. Whatever that was… I told you to take all the time you need and I meant it. Fleeting moments like these, they're something to cherish." She bit her lip, her eyes burning with a giddy shine. 

The wisdom, the acceptance, she was so young unlike him and yet she showed sagacity beyond her years, so familiar, so tempting. 

Her finger tapped against his palm as she cocked her head to the side. "I would like to extend an invitation, _though_." She coerced skillfully, like she hadn't been taking lessons for it, tongue wetting her bottom lip. "I would love it if you would accompany me to Fallow Mire tomorrow. I know I've caught you unprepared, and you'd probably love to get some rest instead… but–"

His hand graced a whisper against her cheekbone, stroking, a caress meant to show gentleness and reassurance. It stopped the train of her thought, like it was intended to do.

She would be the death of him. He found himself liking the notion.

Damn it all.

With a smile, he nodded. 

"It would be a pleasure, Inquisitor. Someone has to keep Sera from destroying the serenity of new surroundings. I do not believe Blackwall to be the wise choice." He teased, fingers reluctant to let go of her flesh. 

She laughed, head shaking as she fiddled with his other hand. "I'm certain you'll find a way to scold them into oblivion."

Mirth danced in her eyes. He let go of her hands, chest heaving out a sigh.

"I believe you should get some sleep, Inquisitor. A long journey awaits us before we reach the Mire." 

" _Ah_ – but we haven't finished our discussion–"

"Inquisitor, _please_ …" He did not know what he pleaded for.

He had to leave.

Confused eyes gazed at him.

Flee.

"We will have time for such matters when we're both rested and rejuvenated, wouldn't you agree?" He stood up, longing eyes following his movement.

Lips opened to mutter something, an affectionate reassurance, supportive syllables, a teasing compliment, something to ease the palpable tension he had been creating since the first time he laid his eyes on her tattered form.

She sighed, and he felt guilt claw at his throat.

This was a mistake.

"You're right. I will try to get some sleep, Solas. _On dhea_ –" she paused, lips muttering and her eyes widened in panic as she stopped herself. 

He wondered what she wished to add to her greeting.

She shook her head with dismissal. "Good night."

With a deep sigh, her eyes returned back to the book in her hands. 

He knew she would not listen to him.

With a heavy burden pressing against his chest, he retreated to his chambers, disappointed for the first time that he had to leave the waking world where her radiance resided. 

**Author's Note:**

> All Elvhen belongs to Fenxshiral's Project Elvhen.
> 
> Ir abelas - I am sorry  
> On dhea - good night


End file.
